


Deck The Halls With The Holy Grail

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Also it is a Christmas fic I guess, At least it was inspired by two Christmas carols, Gen, Holy Grail, Hurt/Comfort, It can be read as an OT3, Loneliness, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: On a winter night, when the halls of Camelot felt enormous and lonely around him, King Arthur looked out a window. Outside snow lay round about and brightly shone a star on the sky, and, deep in his heart, Arthur felt cold.





	Deck The Halls With The Holy Grail

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by flannelgiraffe. Thank you!

Sir Gwaine has been searching for half a year now. The knights of the Round Table left Camelot in order to search the kingdom and all the places beyond for the Holy Grail. They were determined to find it, but their determination slowly turned into desperation. They chose different paths and faced different obstacles, and in the end they only met loneliness.

Sir Gwaine, at least, feels very lonely right now, that's for sure. He can deal with hunger and cold any day, but loneliness is constantly eating away at him, gnawing on his bones and turning the blood running in his veins into painfully melting ice.

It is midwinter and Gwaine has never felt more miserable in his life.

Merlin has been trapped in a hawthorn bush for a month now. Every night he sneaked out of Camelot in order to help the knights to find the right path, until that one time he went too far, both literally and figuratively speaking. A naughty witch tricked him and planted him in the bush, which is still keeping him captured, slowly leaching his magic and feeding it to the soil. His magic is seeping into the water and the roots of the trees, keeping the forest green and wide awake in the middle of winter. The witch's forest is buzzing with life, and Merlin is its heart now, his magic is its blood.

King Arthur is alone in the halls of Camelot. He stayed behind because he is the king and the king must rule. The knights – his brothers – are gone, chasing the Holy Grail. Gwen has left, too: she is accompanying Lancelot on his search. They share the quest. Arthur doesn't know when will his knights return, or who they will be after their journey. If they ever return. But what's more worrying is that even his stupid manservant is missing. Merlin sure didn't go after the others, or so Arthur hopes. He hopes that Merlin wouldn't leave him, not willingly, not without a word or a sign. Not without wanting to return. He must be in trouble, and this thought is making Arthur clench his fists. He did everything in his power to find that stupid man and bring him back. The very first moment he sensed something was amiss, he rode out as far as he could, and he kept doing this. He questioned Gaius, all the trees in all the forests, the roads that bring and take people from Camelot, the gossiping rivers, the peasants, the merchants, the wayfarers, the beggars – but nobody knew the answer.  _Where is Merlin?_ The question keeps eating away at him.

Arthur looks up to the night sky. The stars that fill it are cold and motionless, except for one that has leapt from there blazing, searing across the dark with its bright light. It is falling slower than it should be.

_Maybe it's the sign I've been waiting for,_ Arthur thinks. Or maybe it's just self-deception, but false hope is better than no hope at all. Everything is better than this lonely castle around him and this chewing emptiness inside him.

Arthur rides out and follows the star.

Riding through the night, he thinks about the Holy Grail. It is said to be a fallen star, a jewel from the midnight sky. It is said to be a gemstone from a fallen angel's crown. Arthur wonders if his knights can see it, too.

Gwaine spots the slowly moving star, and thinks it might lead him to the Holy Grail. Although the chance for that happening seems very small (he could just as well follow a baby bunny, for all that matters), but even a faint chance is better than no chance at all. And everything is better than this cold loneliness inside his heart.

The star leads both of them into the witch's forest, luring them deeper and deeper. It could be a trick of the witch, but facing something horrible and magical is better than waiting or searching in vain. However, this search is not in vain, even if they find something clearly magical: Arthur finds Merlin in the hawthorn bush.

'Merlin!' he exclaims instinctively, relieved and horrified at the same time, because how on Earth Merlin gets himself into situations like this. 'Who did this to you?' he mutters mostly to himself, since Merlin is unconscious, so he can give no answer nor instruction on how Arthur could help him. He draws Excalibur and tries to cut the hawthorn branches without injuring Merlin.

Gwaine does not find the Holy Grail, but he meets his king and finds a friend in misery at the heart of some magical forest. One moment he's walking on dazzling white snow, then a step later he is surrounded by trees in full bloom. He does not like what he sees, not a single bit. Especially when he sees Merlin's grey and lifeless body captured by a bush. A bush. If anyone thought a bit of dark magic would send Gwaine off screaming and frightened in the opposite direction, well, they clearly never met him.

Gwaine lifts his sword and tries to cut off a sprig, but metal crashes metal.

Stunned, a king and a knight stare at each other.

'Sir Gwaine.'

'What is this place? And who did this to Merlin?'

'I don't know yet, but I'll end him for it.'

They practically destroy the hawthorn. Merlin falls to the ground and stays there, sprawled and limp. There is a sudden shift in their surroundings, the temperature drops and the tress lose their leaves at once. Fat, white and light-as-a-feather snowflakes cover the three men; first they touch the skin on their face softly, almost gently. Then the snow starts to weight more and more, freezing ice crystals on their eyelashes and wrapping their heart in cold. Gwaine shivers; he wants to lie down, just for a moment, only to rest his eyes a bit. Fatigue is there in his very bones, and he doesn't think he can take another step. Not even if the Holy Grail appears in front of him right now. He couldn't move his arm to reach for it, not for the whole world.

Arthur feels the unforgiving cold and exhaustion, too, and he isn't sure either that he can walk out of this enchanted forest before the snow buries all three of them. He just knows he must do it. So he grits his teeth and lifts Merlin into his arms, ignoring the cold seeping into his blood, the snow weighing down his shoulders.

'Follow me,' Arthur says, and gathers all his strength to take one step. Then another. And another.

Gwaine doesn't relish the thought of moving, but he strengthens his heart and does his best, every knights' best: he follows his king. The first steps are strenuous and almost painful, but slowly it becomes easier to walk. He doesn't feel bone-tired anymore, nor is he cold or hungry. He doesn't want to lie down and sleep, no: he wants to escort Arthur and Merlin back to Camelot, back to safety. He feels he could find and grab the Holy Grail right now, if that would help them.

The snow is melting under Arthur's steps.

The snow is melting because of Merlin's magic, Arthur knows that. Merlin is saving them as much as they are saving him. It all makes sense now. All the small, inexplicable details come together, and Arthur finally sees the whole picture.

'Merlin, you idiot,' he mutters to himself, barely audible. 'You brave idiot.'

They need to talk about Merlin's magic, and they will, just the two of them, after Merlin recovered. Arthur knows Merlin will be alright, because there is no way the forest would be letting them go if it was still having a hold on... the sorcerer? His manservant? His friend?

What is a man, really?

The Holy Grail can be a sacred vessel, the spring of eternal youth or just an ordinary cup. It is the meaning of life, or it is a fairytale. It is a chalice, it is a star, it is a stone. It is what it is in the eye of the beholder.

No man is a lone star on the night sky; every man is a piece of the whole.

Merlin is a fountain of wisdom and bad ideas, both at the same time. He is a vessel of magic and magic is his instrument. He is the stone in Arthur's way when he chooses the wrong path. He is the friend Arthur would carry in his arms under the starry sky, heedless of the wind and cold.

He is the blazing star that will lead all the knights home with a new age dawning.


End file.
